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Times Like These
If she squinted her eyes, the lit candles on her cake seemed to sparkle a little brighter, as if to twinkle a hello and a happy birthday to whom their fires shined for. That was Nico Yazawa's most vivid memory during her eighth birthday, imagining the candles singing along with the rest of the party. She swung her legs. She swayed from side to side. A warm feeling enveloped her, and on that day, Nico knew there could be no other word for it. Love. She felt loved. "Can I squeeze in, birthday girl?" Nico angled her head upwards, the grin already spreading to reveal a missing tooth. Sometimes her memories of him were barely there, some days he never crossed her mind, but on that day, her Papa was here. His hands scooped her up from around her waist, and giggles escaped her as she was lifted into the air. When she landed, Nico was on his lap. "Ready to break the cake?" He teased, pressing his cheek to hers. His scruffy beard prickled her face, but it only made her smile more. It was familiar. He was there with her. Present. Happy. Loving. "Not yet! Don't you dare. We need a picture first," commanded her Mama, and her husband raised his hands in surrender. The adults laughed and cracked jokes Nico didn't understand, but she felt as if she couldn't smile anymore than she already was. Papa pulled her closer. Nico leaned back, his huge heartbeat knocking on his chest. The camera flashed, and Nico thought about how pretty the picture would look framed in her room. "Okay, Nico-chan," her mother waved a hand to catch her attention. "what do you always say at times like these?" Nico raised her hands up high, fingers posed out of instinct. She yelled out her words, loud and clear, "Thank you!" and everyone smiled with her. The sky was bright blue and cloudless that day. But this day, it was not. The sun nowhere to be found, the rain poured relentlessly, water splashing against cold pavement. Nico was older. Sixteen with invisible weight on her shoulders, she worked part-time at the supermarket a few blocks from her house. Her family wasn't desperate, but every yen counted. And if Papa had taught her anything, it was that if she could help, then she should. "I just didn't think that applied on my birthday," Nico mumbled, glancing around the empty checkout lines. She could be doing worse, optimistically speaking. She could be running for shelter outside as her clothes got drenched, and asking for a cold was the last thing she wanted on her birthday. Someone hurried in through the entrance, purple hair completely soaked. Ah. Nico knew her. She did a quick once-over of herself. Besides her casual clothes, she had the red employee apron; good, she looked presentable. The girl wandered over to her cashier with an umbrella. "That'll be 500 yen." "What're ya up to, Nicocchi?" came the vibrant reply, and it only made Nico frown. "500 yen, Nozomi." Her classmate pouted, but pulled her coin pouch out of her bag. "I'm just makin' small talk. Here," Nozomi held out her hand expectantly. It took eight seconds before Nico relented, extending an open palm. She felt a coin and a piece of paper press against her skin. Nico glanced up to Nozomi's small, knowing smile. "happy birthday, Nicocchi." She took her umbrella and ambled out. Nico watched her retreating figure before looking down at her hand. There was a folded note. She carefully opened it to find the scribbled words, If anything is worth doing, do it with all your heart. "... Her present to me is a quote from Buddha?" Nico furrowed her eyebrows, admitting that maybe, just a little, the smile on her face was the real gift. She remembered the warm feeling. The one she'd fondly called love so long ago. She never forgot it after that, clinging onto love as if afraid it would escape. It scared her, how love could be twisted and be as painful as it was. Nico kept the emotion close. She refused to let anyone or anything rob her of it. No unexpected death, no club resignations, would be more than she could handle ever again. Nico would stubbornly budge her way through the hard times. She harbored that determination until her third year in high school, when a few underclassmen stumbled into her life. They were a smidge more stubborn than she was, and hardheaded, and naive, and when they caught sight of her hidden heart, they refused to leave her alone. "Nicocchi's finally an adult now, huh?" Nozomi walked into the kitchen, bending down to peek into the oven. She wore that small, knowing, and familiar smile. "Too bad her looks don't match her age," a redhead grumbled as she leaned against the door frame. "Shut up, Maki-chan." Nico busied herself with the dishes, unable to deny the growing warmth in her heart. Yes. They refused to leave, wrestling out a vulnerability that she'd fought so hard to cover. Though there were no longer eight candles that would whisper private hellos, Nico had found something better. They were obstinate and they didn't always get along, but they were her friends. Nico looked out the window. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. It was the same as her birthday, ten years ago. She had named love on that day, but on this day, she found it all over again. She smiled, as Maki bickered and Nozomi evaded, and somewhere in the other room Honoka complained about food. Umi chastised her, but Kotori came prepared, and the cycle repeated itself. Rin played with Nico's siblings, while Hanayo spoke with her mother. Without a doubt, it was her best birthday. What was it, that her mother told her ten years ago? There was only one thing to say at times like these. Thank you. Category:Fanfiction